


Rip Side

by KnifingGale, LuciaWilt



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blindness, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Female Sam Porter Bridges - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21574582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnifingGale/pseuds/KnifingGale, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciaWilt/pseuds/LuciaWilt
Summary: “I would say the same thing but…” Sam trailed off after finally responding while lifting her cane and heard a small laugh from the man standing before her.“What a fun sense of humor you have."
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Higgs Monaghan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Rip Side

**Author's Note:**

> me: *reads one fic by KnifingGale and falls in love with female!Sam* Ah shit, here we go again.

CLICK.

CLICK.

CLICK.

The beat of the metronome was steady in her ears; mixed in with the sound of Heartman’s quiet orchestral commands and the other instruments that surely surrounded her where she sat on the piano bench. Her hazy unfocused eyes stared straight forward as her hands danced across the keys; the soft beat of the music flowing through her. This close to summer break, Heartman allowed the class to choose a new song to cover each Monday. By that Friday, they needed to be at the very least, proficient enough to play with the rest of the group.

That day they were doing a piece from some Disney movie or another; Sam honestly couldn’t recall the title of it. It was not like she was that big of a fan of those movies anyways. But even she could admit they had some absolutely wonderful soundtracks. So she focused on feeling it. She focused on the sensation of the keys against her fingertips; how they would move over the dozens of raised ones before settling once again in the grooves. 

Sam counted the steps and before long, the crescendo came and went; letting everyone from the violins to her left and the horns and brass to her right to fade out. She, being the only pianist in the class, was the last to quiet; finishing out the song as Heartman and the sheet music explained to do. 

Sam pulled her headphones off mid-applause of those around her. They often all did that; simply happy to have completed a piece in such a fashion. She did not blame them, and even gave her own little clap. Sometimes it was nice to simply cheer for yourself; hell, she needed that in her everyday life outside of the classroom. 

Nonetheless she nodded for a moment then stood, snapping open her retractable walking stick in the process. As she did so, she heard Heartman walking in her direction; his hard-bottomed shoes click-clacking the entire way as he weaved in and out of the other students that were packing up. 

“Sam, you did wonderful today as per usual.” He said, sounding happy. She assumed he was smiling since most did when they sounded that way. “There were a few beats that seemed a little off but I can just chalk that up to your mind being elsewhere as it sometimes is.”

He was not exactly wrong about that. She had been thinking about “this” and “that”; what she needed to buy at the store the next time she went and what she was going to do with said ingredients among other things.

“Yes, and you are right as per usual. The piece was lovely and everyone did well; you included sir.” She said while pulling her purse strap over her shoulder. Upon feeling the leather weight, she turned and made a small motion with her hand for him to follow towards the door which he did. “Thank you again for choosing it. I had quite a bit of fun.” 

Heartman was quiet for a moment. What he was doing or looking at, she was unsure, but she allowed him his time before he spoke again. “Of course Sam. If you want to work on any of your selections, feel free to contact me over the weekend. Have a good rest of your day.” And like that, the conversation was over, freeing her up to rush back home as fast as she could. 

~’~

Austin was a loud city. It was perhaps the loudest city Sam had lived in; travelled to. Which she always found surprising since it was a southern city. Perhaps it was just the stereotype she went in with. Not knowing the location of her birth, she always just said she was from DC where her mother and sister lived. It was north enough; and one often imagines a “lively city” like New York among others. Yet even DC, the countries capital, was not nearly as alive as Austin was. Sam had to wonder if that was because of the weather, the warmth of Austin. Because of the wonderful weather, everyone was able to walk instead of taking their cars everywhere. They were able to ride bikes and sit outside at restaurants. Still it was not like Sam was complaining too much.

She was after all in one of the furthest states south from her family. 

Though she did not like to share why she moved as far as she could from her mother and sister. That was for when people were much, MUCH, closer with her. The only person she had explained a little bit of her past to was Fragile and that was because the archeologist grad student was nearly as quiet as Sam was; therefore unlikely to share secrets Sam would rather keep hidden. That, and she would not judge Sam on who she really was. Others would; oh others would point and stare. They would treat her differently; much more so than they already do considering her “sight problem”. 

There were more than enough people that acted like she was glass; she didn’t need any more of a reason for people to pile on. 

Nevertheless, yes, Austin was loud. It was alive and bustling and really, Sam liked it. She nearly blended right in. At the University of Texas, a Division 1 school with over 50,000 students, no one took a second glance at a 20 year old petite blind girl. At a young age, she thankfully was entranced with music so she was able to pursue a degree in something many blind people before her worked with. 

Sam blessedly lived rather close to the campus in a small, yet clean apartment. She had been told it was older; built in the late 70’s but kept up well. At least that’s what Die-Hardman had told her. All she asked for was a roof over her head and some place to live that was close enough to walk to campus without having to take the bus. 

Something else she quite enjoyed about the “aliveness” of Austin was that most everything was outdoors. Her apartment complex was sprawling, a multitude of buildings that were all only two stories. The front office of the apartment building was where the many mailboxes were kept so she headed right there when she got out of class. It was not like she was waiting for a particular letter or package; she just really enjoyed the heat of the sun at that moment. It always felt so good in the early summer; interchanging with cooler spots as what she assumed the leaves above her shifted in the calming winds. 

But honestly, it was uncommon for her to hang around the mailboxes and the apartments office; rarely, if ever, did she do such a thing. Yet here she was, standing by her box with her face tilted ever so slightly in the direction of the road to her right. Back and forth cars and trucks went, the noises of the street spilling in around her as she honed in on the sounds. From what she had been told by both Fragile, Die-Hardman, and even Heartman; Texan drivers drove like maniacs. They would go well over the speed limit; not that she would really know. It was just she got a lot of “I wish you would take the bus Sam” or “Let me give you a ride. I worry about you when you walk through the city” (even if she lived near the outskirts of campus). Then in Die-Hardman’s case it was always “Let me hire a driver for you. It would put my mind at ease as well as your sister and your mother’s”. That last one always pissed her off more than it probably should have. 

There were people walking around her as well but they paid her no mind so she paid them no mind. As to why she was standing there…. well… Honestly she was not entirely sure. Perhaps it was a force that stayed her feet, perhaps it was the music over the speakers of the tex-mex place next to her apartment that thrummed in her veins. 

It was the sudden sound of the mailbox next to hers opening that snapped her out of her thoughts. Sam’s head tilted back in that direction as she waited for the person to move, to grab the mail, anything at all. Yet it seemed like they had stopped upon seeing her. 

“Ah right, you are my next door neighbor. I’ve seen you a few times before.” So a man. His voice was deep with a southern drawl, though that wasn’t surprising considering where they were. He was close to her and she turned her head a bit more in his direction. In the wind, she smelled something, something pleasant. It was nothing stuffy or overly masculine; more like paper in a book, or perhaps that was something like a floral soap. She could almost describe it as the smell of laundry hanging out in the sun. 

“I would say the same thing but…” Sam trailed off after finally responding while lifting her cane and heard a small laugh from the man standing before her.

“What a fun sense of humor you have. What’s your name since we have never introduced ourselves? You can call me Higgs.” Sam unsuccessfully hid her small flinch when he shook her hand out of the blue but tried to shake it off nonetheless. It was not like he knew; she had only told Fragile a month or two ago. 

“Higgs. You can call me Sam.” 

“Alright Sam. I’ll see you around.” It was all that was said with a joking tone before Higgs turned to walk away. However she counted a few steps before calling out his name; which thankfully caused him to stop. It was not as though she could go chasing him down. “Yes darling?” He said in that same country drawl which made it sound like he said “darlin’” instead. 

“That smell…the cologne, I like it.”


End file.
